


Saccharin

by shaykreth



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M, Relationship(s), Romance, Saccharin Sweet, You Should See A Dentist After Reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaykreth/pseuds/shaykreth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of sticky-sweet drabbles written for various people, requests, and ideas. All Dragon Age, many different canons, couples.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cullen x Inquisitor

Cullen and the Inquisitor are lying in her bed. They were late to retire, the ongoing festivities for visiting dignitaries requiring too much of an evening. Cullen is nearly asleep when he hears the Inquisitor gasp and sit up. He stirs, slowly, turning to look at her. “Darling?”

“You let me win!”

He can’t help it; he starts to laugh at the accusation in her voice. 

“Cullen, you let me win!” She punches him hard in the shoulder as he wheezes between laughs.

“Of course I did, darling. You are much too intimidating; frankly, I wasn’t sure how to flirt with you… So I figured I couldn’t go wrong with allowing you to bask in victory.”

“You..! You are incorrigible!” She flung her pillow at his head with vicious accuracy; never had a down pillow been heavier than in her hands.

He can’t stop laughing. “Well… it worked, didn’t it?”


	2. Hawke x Fenris

Hawke moves around the small kitchen gracelessly. Fenris watches from the safety of the kitchen bar, outside of the action and sitting, everything held so close (hands, arms, knees, tucked in a space no wider than his shoulders). 

He watches Hawke close the refrigerator with a bump from his hip, sitting an armload of lettuce, deli meat, mayo, more on the counter. 

He watches Hawke’s shirt ride up as he stretches to grab a plate from the overhead cabinets.

He watches Hawke slouch over the toaster as he waits for the bed to pop back, he trips a little over his overlong pants legs when he turns for a knife.

He watches Hawke as he mumbles “ow” after bumping into an open drawer.

He watches Hawke shamelessly smother the bread in spreads, some mayo, a fancy mustard, something homemade and red, then piles on the turkey, the lettuce, the cheese, the apples.

He watches Hawke slice through the middle of the sandwich, then serve Fenris a plate featuring the two slightly uneven squares. 

Fenris looks up at Hawke. ‘This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,’ his heart whispers. 

Hawke knows, smiles in a lopsided way, “That’s a homemade cranberry relish, Mom’s recipe. Seriously, try it.”

Fenris feels a tightness in his chest as he eats the sandwich - it is a really good sandwich. Hawke is smiling bigger.

“This is … quite good, actually. I’m pleasantly surprised, Hawke. I didn’t know you were capable of keeping so many ingredients unspoiled all at the same time.”

Hawke guffaws at him. “Oh my god you are the biggest asshole.”

“So I’ve heard.”

It is the kindest thing anyone has done for him in a long time.


	3. Cullen x Inquisitor

The Inquisitor lays in her bath, eyes closed and steam rising up around her face. Her copper tub is full to the top, the water clean and clear, scented with rose and thyme - a rare indulgence.

She hears the door to her quarters close softly, and the clanking of armor as Cullen returns from a long day spent training the troops. She smiles and listens to him remove his armor and place it on the stand, slide his feet from his shoes, and remove the outermost layers of his formal attire. He prefers to relax in the cotton undershirt, other trappings of his office forgotten during their hours together. 

She fills in the gaps in the sound - him sitting carefully on the Orleasian-style sofa, running dirty hands through sweaty hair.

“Hello, love,” she sighs, too relaxed to speak above a whisper, mindful of breaking the quiet peace. 

Hands rest on her shoulder and she starts, looking up to see Cullen standing, smiling, by her head. “Would you terribly mind company? I’ve found new muscles to strain.”

“Oh Cullen,” she breathes, eyes closing again. “What happened?”

The rustling of cloth, sliding and moving as he strips, holds her attention more than his answer, something involving shields and troop maneuverability. She feels the water shift as he steps in from the other side of the tub, the water sloshing over the side and onto the carpet. 

“You’re ruining my rugs,” she comments. “Josie will have your head.”

“So be it.” She can hear the smile on his face. “A warm bath is worth a few harsh words from Josephine.”


	4. Cullen x Inquisitor

“We would go to Fereldan,” Cullen says, quietly. “We would buy land, a small piece, and build a farmhouse.”

The Inquisitor lays next to him in their bed, head and hair pooled on his chest as she listens to him talk. 

“Cows, pigs, a huge vegetable garden, an orchard. We would have a… a family, Maker willing.” 

She laughs softly. “We could fill the house with little curly-haired children.”

Cullen’s return laugh is stilted, a little awkward, an audible blush. “Ah, well… perhaps a few. Maybe.”

She smiles, moving a hand to pet his chest, gentle. A set of windows in her chambers are open to the outside. The wind is biting cold, but it does not reach here. Not in this safe place. The softest, warmest spot in Skyhold. Cullen’s heart beats slowly, a gentle rhythm in her ear, reminding her - I’m alive, we’re alive, we survived it all, somehow we are still alive. She had asked about their future, now that Corypheus is gone. What Cullen would want for them, should he ever be able to name it.

“Cullen?”

“Yes, love?”

"We could have children. If you wanted.” 

She tilts her head a little, looking up to his face, gauging his reaction. “It’s safer now… as safe is it might ever be. Could you imagine it? A little child, with your hair and my eyes, Varric telling them stories of our adventures, riding on Bull’s shoulders, playing with toys stolen by Cole?” She smiles, seeing the corners of his lips turn up.

“Maker’s breath, I would never allow Varric tell my child a story. He’d make a nursery rhyme vulgar. Josie must be in charge of story hour.”

“Oh, and she would do it with puppets too, wouldn’t she.” The Inquisitor laughs at the image, Cullen squeezing his arm around her middle in agreement.

“Cullen,” she says, again, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Please. Let’s… try? While we can? Before it’s too late…”

He pauses before answering. “I… don’t think I could ever tell you no, darling. I would… I would love to. Have children. Yes.”

Her heart seizes in her chest; she is quiet, holding the joy in check. Her voice is heavy with emotion when she says, “Then we had best get to work.”

“Maker yes. We had better.”


	5. Hawke x Fenris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, I have no idea what this even is.

Hawke reached out a hand to Fenris, stilling his trembling with a touch. “Just a few more minutes,” he said, softly. “It won’t be much longer.”

“It has already dragged on too long,” Fenris responded, his features set in a scowl.

“Ssh!” A woman from the row in front of them turned around. She put a finger to her lips in a kindergarten gesture of silence, which did absolutely nothing to quell Fenris’s growing anger. 

Fenris tensed, then stood quickly, knocking one of Hawke’s books to the floor of the lecture hall where it hit and echoed. The hall went silent, all eyes now on the angry person gathering his things and stalking to the back exit.

“I am so sorry, I, uh, I think he’s not feeling well,” Hawke tried to cover for him, packing his own things up, “I’ll just go check on him, right? Don’t mind us! Just leaving now…”

“Oh, Fenris! Is he o-” Merrill’s concern from the front row was cut short, no doubt Isabella’s doing.

Hawke hurried out the back, finding Fenris with a fist against the brick wall just outside the door. He moved in close, glancing at the door to make sure it was shut, before initiating chastisement. “Fenris, you can’t just stalk out of every fucking history lecture because you don’t like how the Middle East is being presented! This is a shitty Christian college in a shitty Christian city and we’re forced to take these shitty classes-”

Fenris turned, grabbing Hawke by the neck and holding him, anger marring his features. Hawke pushed back, teeth pressing against teeth in an uncomfortable kiss.

Fenris pulled away by centimetres, speaking once he was able, “It is so much more than that, and you are right which makes it even worse. Hawke, I am dropping out.”

Hawke’s jaw dropped. “Fenris, no, you-”

“I can,” he rumbled, voice low and threatening, “and I will. I’ve had it. I don’t care how much money my parents hold over my head for this, I will not subject myself to this."


End file.
